An Old Friend
by Craftman88
Summary: The Paths of An Unknown Being who Deckard Cain hopes will save all of Sanctuary! Plz read! I need comments to help with my writing!
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Diablo or any of characters, except the new mystery character.

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An Old Friend

Nature had taken its toll on the tavern. Vines and other plants had taken hold and advanced up the walls. The roof looked likely to collapse any moment. He didn't understand his friend's choice of locations. He took one more glance at the pathetic building before walking through the door.

Despite the gloomy out look of the building, the inside was just the opposite. At least 15 men were enjoying their evening in the pub; trying to drown out their guilt, sadness, and fear. The laughing, talking and sound of clinking mugs were cheerful, but did little to brighten his spirit.

He new he'd found his friend almost immediately. The far back of the tavern was virtually pitch black and the other men seemed to be avoiding it. He caught several accusing and cautious glances as he made his way to the back where a silhouette could be barely seen by the light of a dimly lit lamp.

He took a seat in on the opposite side of the table, " You couldn't have chosen a better place than this, could you?"

" What do you mean, this is far better than any other tavern or pub you could find in Lut Golein or West march" replied a deep authoritative voice.

He managed a wry smile. As his eyes adjusted, he could see that his friend was the same as ever. A large figure in a brown cloak, always hiding his face in a veil of deep darkness, yet an aura of light emanated from him. It had been a long time ago when he first met him. He himself had dared to far into an ancient pit; once again the pride of the Horadrim leading another brave mage to meet his death. He happened to come upon some forgotten creature from the sin wars and was moments from death, when a large figure intervened. With one swift strike the creature fell. This mysterious character returned him to Tristram and since then they'd become good friends.

" Well Deckard, I'm not gonna lie", his friend whispered " You look horrible".

" For the last 6 months I have searched in the deepest catacombs and the highest towers for insight on our situation", Deckard sighed. " And I have nothing to show for it."

" That is partly why I asked to meet you", spoke his friend in a gloomy voice. " Deckard, you're running out of time. The greater evils for the time being are subdued, but hell is not."

" My spies have informed me that Hell is in a stalemate. Azmodan and Belial our at each others throats. Neither willing to relinquish power to the other. I fear that Azmodan has taken the higher ground. Once he takes control, its over."

Deckard eyed him accusingly " Over! It won't be over. Our heroes and armies can hold them ba-"

" No", gleamed his friend, " Your friends may have been able to defeat the prime evils in combat, but not the endless armies of Hell." His friends voice was raising.

" They said it was impossible to defeat a prime evil. I believed myself that it was fool hardy to try to enter the Tristram Cathedral. I thought it mad to try to dare Travincal, but look what these heroes have done. I implore you to see that there is hope in man. " responded a defiant Deckard.

Several of the men were eyeing them by now.

His friend spoke, his voice now reserved and perfect, " Deckard, Azmodan is a fool. Signs have already been found of what I feared above all else. You by now know of the abyss. It is a place where all demons originate. The defeated Prime Evils themselves exist their. But there are things their that cannot be spoken of. Their are great evils far beyond your imagination. The Prime Evils were smart enough not to gamble with what they summoned from the abyss.

His friend voice seemed to shake, "But in the deepest darkest foulest pits of the abyss lie things that Diablo may even fear. There are those the high heaven and the Burning Hell have outlawed even speaking of. They are the Dark ones, the Endless, the Children of Perdition. I fear Azmodan is planning, if he has not already, on summoning one of the Forbidden.

The darkness seemed to be seeping in around them, " When he does, he will take control of Hell and he will destroy everything.

"Deckard, there is no hope" whispered his friend in a anguished voice.

Deckard spoke, " Then in the face of this, I ask you to help us fight."

" No" his friend spoke, silencing Cain, " I swore not to intervene, you of all now that."

" Then try to find Tyreal and tell him or warn the High Heavens." Cain said in a shaken voice.

" Deckard!, Tyreal made his choice long ago, He is a traitor!"

Deckard spoke despite his friends loudening voice, " He understood his mistake. He's tried to help-"

" Trying to help!", his friend was virtually yelling, " And what has he accomplished; a gaping hole leading the Burning Hells straight to Sanctuary. A Demon madd enough to end life as you know it. It is to late for him to redeem himself."

Deckard was now standing, " Tyreal has done far more than enough to repent" Cain said now glaring, " He isn't the one who betrayed his own-"

His friend stood, the building shook, the torches blazed. The men in the pub stumbled screaming out of the Tavern. But still Cain stood his ground. His friend seemed to be emanating a deep darkness, then in a deafening commanding voice his friend spoke, " Deckard, you speak out of term. Because you deny the fact that there is no hope, you doom all your kind. They will die and you will die with them!"

The building calmed the torches returned to normal and his friend's usual aura returned, " I will tell you one thing, the only way to stop this doom. Is to do something irrepentable. Something so terrible that it will damn a mortal soul for eternity." His friend took a deep breath, " You must return Terror to its rightful place in Hell." His friend seemed tired and worn, "I am sorry Cain, but I must take my leave. If you have enough faith in Tyreal, to have stood up against me, then perhaps I may too. We will see." , And with that his friend walked out of the now ruined tavern.


	2. Son of the Incorruptible Blood

I do not own Diablo, but the some of the characters are of my own creation.

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" Alright, I'll see you tomorrow at training.", he spoke to Jerikah before rapping his cloak around him and heading down the street. It had grown dark while he was at the tavern, and the torches along the roads were starting to dim. Hopefully, Berkikh had not noticed the absence of his young apprentice, and was already asleep. He didn't understand why the aging man had insisted on his early curfew. Jerikah's teacher couldn't care less what he did, least of all going out at night.

Berkikh had been a father figure to him since he was very young. The old mage always looking after him, and making sure he began his Knight training at an early age. At the age of 15, he was put directly under the charge of Berkikh for the rest of his training.

He continued to follow his regular path home, cheering laughs and chatter could be heard from the houses. When he rounded one of the last corners he stopped. The torches and lamps were completely out on the continuing street, and it radiated with darkness. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but gossiping Jerikah had told several stories of sightings of Dark Cultists in the area. This of course, was impossible. Dark cultists were widely known to only be in places like Kehjistan; even there few believe them to be real.

But he couldn't help imagining dark cloaked figures hiding in the alleyways of the street, waiting for him to pass by. He cursed himself for forgetting to grab his sword before he went to the tavern. Once again Berkikh's voice rang in his head, " Faith and zeal will only carry you so far against a band of demons...now a sword on the other hand."

Finding another way would take too long. Finding his fears childish, he started down the street. The homes and buildings seemed strangely dull and void of life. Even at this time of night, most people were still up. He was almost half way and any doubts he had fled. Once or twice he thought he heard other footsteps, but when he'd look back there was nothing. Finally exiting the street, he swiftly made his way to the old Inn, where he and Berkikh were lived. He immediately noticed lights inside the Inn. Berkikh had no doubt, found his room empty and was waiting for him with a scowl on his face.

He walked up to the large oak door, but stopped when he heard voices inside. One was definitely Berkikh, but he didn't recognize the other. He creaked open the door and slid inside. The bar of the old Inn faced directly the lounge, which was where the voices were coming from. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way behind the bar, slowly raised his head above the table and listened.

" You promised me! You told me, he wouldn't ever have to return to those lands!" Berkikh spoke angrily. " Isn't that the whole reason his father brought him here, despite his grandfathers objection."

Through the lobby, he could make out a large cloaked figure, sitting near Berkikh, by the fireplace. No part of his body could be seen, his arms folded and the dark brown cloak dropping to the floor. Despite the fire's brightness that lit up a large part of the room, it didn't penetrate the darkness that shrouded the man's hooded face.

When the man spoke, the deep voice seemed to resonate in the entire lounge," I understand your concern Berkikh, but we have no other choice. The boy must take up this cause, it is his ancestral duty."

Once again Berkikh spoke back angrily, " No, he is too young. Too ill-prepared for such a challenge like this. He still has too much to learn." Berkikh paused, "He is no longer of their people, now he is a knight of Westmarch and he will remain in Westmarch."

"My friend, that is why there is hope, because he was brought up here in Westmarch is why he can. Through his veins, runs the same blood as his father and grandfather: incorruptible, zealous, faithful. His grandfather died, because he refused to be possessed by Evil." spoke the man again.

Finally with a sigh Berkikh spoke, " I hoped so long that this day wouldn't come. Worked so hard to prepare him against this fate. I guess I knew you would come back, I just... didn't want to admit it."

" He has a right to know. Don't you?" as the man spoke, he turned his head and looked directly at bar, straight into the darkness, into the eyes of the young man. He couldn't see the man's eyes, but he knew he was staring right at him. The young man swore under his breath, as he realized from the question that cloaked man had known he was there the entire time.

" You fool! Have you been eavesdropping this entire time?" slowly the boy emerged from the darkness, not given a chance to respond before Berkikh resumed, " I ought to drag you to the barracks and have you whipped."

As the young man moved closer to the fire, the cloaked figure seemed to grow even larger and emanate an Erie darkness. "Sit!" spoke Berkikh sharply.

Berkikh took a deep breath, and then started, " I'm going to give it to you straight. By the time I'm done, your going to be more confused then you have ever been and you will hate me for not telling you this sooner. You already know we did not find you abandoned in a ruined city near Tristram. You were brought here by your father."

" My father! How could yo-", the boy tried to speak, but was cut short by a silencing hand by Berkikh.

" Now you know of how our order came to be. Most of the Paladins of the Hand of Zakarum saw the leading council unfit to give righteous orders. One of the leading Paladins, your father, saw the evil slowly sinking into the Church and knew it was necessary to break off. Now your Grandfather saw it too, but he believed that there was still hope and he refused to abandon the church. He new your father would try to take you, his only grandchild, to the West. Your father, fortunately, was able escape with you out of Kurast. Before he left, he promised your grandfather he would return to help."

Berkikh paused with a pained look on his face, " Your father and I were good friends. He brought you to me and ordered me to look after you. He tried to convince me that he'd be safe and that he would return. I knew in my heart he wouldn't; by then Travincal had become too corrupt and possessed by the Lord of Hatred. Your father and grandfather remained in Travincal, trying to fight Mephisto's hold on the Church of Light, but to no avail. A few years later, a Hero came and defeated Mephisto, releasing the darkness that had shrouded the minds of the Church. Now Kurast is recovering, but any hope or faith in the Church has been swept away. Their people now shattered, untrusting and leaderless."

Finally the young man shaking his head spoke angrily , " I....don't.....What does any of that have to do with me or this man here tonight. Why would my father go back? How could you not tell me this? You were like a father to me!".

A guilty face Berkikh spoke slowly, " I know....I really am sorry, but there is something else you need to know. The reason why this man is here, why I'm telling you this now, is because there is something that runs in your blood, in your family. Some strange Iron Will that firmly stands in defiance of any kind of evil that it meets. To understand all of this you must understand who your grandfather was and what he still is for the people of Kurast. Your grandfather was no political leader, or squabbling Zakarum priest. He was the one incorruptible leader, who stood so firmly, it angered even the Lord of Hatred himself. Your grandfather was Khalim, the Que' Hegan of the church of light. Now that you know this, you know why you have to return. The people of Kurast are strong, but they are broken. They need, but that same defiant blood to stand forth once again to lead them when all others have abandoned that effort. Just like your father, you need to return to the land of your birth and try to bring back faith and hope in the Church of Light. You need to become the new Que' Hagen and redeem the Zakarum.


End file.
